


Prompt 53: "Who crawls through someone's window at 4:00am to go for ice cream?!"

by jiichan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Angst, Canon-Compliant, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Recreational Drug Use, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 07:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15702495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiichan/pseuds/jiichan
Summary: Otabek didn't expect a visitor at his apartment at 4:00am, but here Yuri is, stinking of weed and asking to go for ice cream. But something tells Otabek this isn't just some friendly outing. His friend hasn't been quite himself for a few weeks.





	Prompt 53: "Who crawls through someone's window at 4:00am to go for ice cream?!"

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt requested by my bro Nate that I posted on tumblr a while back.  
> This is something I wanted to write to kind of set up something longer, or at least capture a tone that I want to put into a longer piece that I won't start posting until at least the second draft is done.

A loud, staccato tap at the window made Otabek flinch. He pushed his headphones off, wondering if maybe he was imagining things. Curiosity stole the better half of his judgment and he went up to the window, looking out into the dark. From where he was, all he could see were a few street lamps, some pavement, and the apartment across the street.

He padded back to the couch where his laptop sat, the white-blue glow the only thing lighting up the small living room as its fan whirred from all its hours of use. His mixes weren’t going to finish themselves, and he had a new gig to DJ at next week.

Before he could get settled back into what he was doing, there was a faint scraping sound from outside.

 _What the hell is that_ , Otabek wondered, his eyebrows pressing together in confusion. The only thing he could think was a stray cat, or maybe some other animal. But what cat would make such a clear sound against the outside wall of a second-floor apartment?

As he approached the window with tight caution pulling at his back, he gasped and fell back a step.

_Whack! Whack! Whack!_

One after the other, a fist rapped at his window. A voice shouted from the other side, the nighttime quiet doing nothing to muffle it.

“Beka, I know this is your apartment! Open the hell up!”

 _Yura?_ Otabek thought with alarm, now extremely confused.

Otabek rushed to the window and opened it. Yuri was practically hanging off the fire escape that was just to the left of his window. The sight in and of itself made Otabek’s heart jump into his throat and cold sweat break out on his temples.

“Finally,” Yuri huffed.

Before Otabek could even think, Yuri pulled himself into the apartment window. As graceful as he was on the ice, Yuri practically fell into the room. He was a tangle of long limbs and short huffs of curses. Yuri’s long legs finally found their way into Otabek’s place. A rank, sour smell followed him into the room. The scraggly Russian finally stood up, adjusting his sweater.

“Dude, I have been texting you all evening. What the hell are you doing?” Yuri asked.

Otabek blinked and then went to the other end of the room for his phone. He’d left it charging at the kitchen counter. Sure enough, when he scrolled through his notifications, he had messages from Yuri.

“Sorry, I was busy,” Otabek said.

Tight, hollow guilt tugged at his chest.

“Whatever,” Yuri breathed halfheartedly with a dismissive wave. He crossed the room and turned on the lights. Otabek’s eyes adjusted painfully. As he blinked away the strain, he looked at Yuri. His hair was mostly in his face, but Otabek could see that Yuri’s eyes were sort of bloodshot.

“Wait a sec,” Otabek said, stepping up to Yuri. He sniffed deeply the closer he got, making out the scent.

“God, did you and Mila share a joint again? You reek,” Otabek said.

“So what? She offered. Why the hell would I say no? Anyway, like I texted you, let’s go.” Yuri took a few long strides, already going to the front door.

Otabek hurried to his window to shut it.

“Go where?” He asked as he tugged the window shut and turned back to his friend.

“To get ice cream. God, you didn’t read any of my messages, did you? C’mon, it’ll just be a quick stop.”

“You came here to get ice cream? Through my window? Yura, nowhere to get ice cream is even open,” Otabek said. He could feel agitation snaking up his back. This was ridiculous. Why couldn’t Mila go with him?

“What’re you talking about? Convenience stores are open all the time. You gonna go with me or not?”

The two young men exchanged glances for a moment, and then Otabek slunk to his room.

“Lemme get my shoes,” he mumbled.

Something in his gut told him this wasn’t just about ice cream.

Yuri sighed, almost with relief, shifting his weight impatiently from one foot to the other. The familiar light, shiny sound of keys in his pocket was missing, reminding him yet again that he left them at Mila’s place. He’d just get them later.

Otabek shut his bedroom door and motioned with a finger for Yuri to get a move on.

“Let’s go. We’ll take my bike.”

**\-------------------------------------**

Yuri had somehow talked Otabek into buying the ice cream for him. They were both getting chocolate-dipped ice cream bars. Yuri insisted on getting two for himself, even though Otabek told him the second one would melt.

Once they left the convenience store, Yuri was already peeling one of the bars open. He took a greedy hunk out of the corner. Light from the red and blue neon signs in the convenience store windows reflected on Yuri’s hair and cast different hues of warm and cool on his face. The hum of far-off traffic reached the parking lot. St. Petersburg was too big of a city to ever sleep.

“Wanna go anywhere else tonight? We can go back to my place.” Otabek offered.

Yuri shrugged, his shoulders slumping. He looked visibly bothered, like he was closing in on himself.

Otabek leaned against his bike, unwrapping his own ice cream bar. As he took a bite, Yuri spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically forced.

“My grandpa’s doctor says she thinks he’s showing signs of dementia.” Although mumbled, it carried just fine in the humid fog of the early, still-dark morning.

Otabek didn’t have any idea what to say. Sure, Yuri’s grandpa was getting old – the guy was in his seventies. But that didn’t change the fact that Yuri’s favorite person was starting to fade.

“I shoulda noticed before,” Yuri went on, eyes fixed to the ground. “He’s been calling me by my dad’s name sometimes – sure, I look like that fucker, but Grandpa doesn’t even correct himself much anymore. And he thought Potya was new when he was over last. A cat I’ve had since I was eight and he thought he was new.” Yuri let out a short, broken laugh.

Otabek stood up, approaching Yuri. He fixed himself right next to him, unsure as to whether he should grab Yuri’s hand.

“And my mom wants me to call my dad and tell him this shit. I’m surprised she even knows his goddamn phone number. Last time I saw that fucker, I was five. I ain’t sayin’ shit to him. That asshole’s been gone for fourteen years – he doesn’t deserve to know this.”

“Why’s she making you call him?” Otabek asked.

Yuri shrugged again, this time almost following his shoulders down. His gaze looked exhausted.

“She just doesn’t wanna talk to him, so she’s shoving that onto me. I guess if I don’t do it, she’ll call him eventually.” Yuri took another large bite out of the ice cream bar.

“We should go to my place. You can sleep over. And we should wash your clothes, you still stink,” Otabek said.

If Yuri didn’t know him better, he’d think Otabek was being insensitive. But things like this were how Otabek showed concern. He always wanted to act, even if he couldn’t fix anything.

“Sure, yeah. I don’t have my keys anyway. We can do that.” Yuri turned to Otabek, his shoes scuffing against the pavement.

He was so close that Otabek had to look up at him. Yuri didn’t seem to be looking at him – or anything. He just stared out to the street. Otabek’s stomach sank at the way Yuri’s lips pressed in a thin line.

“Beka.” Yuri still didn’t look at him. “What if he forgets me? I mean, I know it’ll happen – that he’ll forget everything, but—” Yuri let out an uneven breath, his jaw clenched. He swallowed in a useless attempt to push his rising emotions down.

Otabek’s gaze fell to the ground, knowing there was no good answer. Like Yuri said, people with dementia forget everything at some point. Anything Otabek said about that would be empty.

As Otabek glanced up, he noticed the sky was turning to a shade of gray. The sun would be coming up within the next hour or so. Otabek patted Yuri’s arm, as if to push him in the direction of his bike.

“Let’s go back to my place,” he said.

Yuri nodded weakly and bit off what all was left of the bar. The cold filling his mouth felt painful against his teeth. He let the popsicle stick drop to the parking lot as he followed Otabek to the bike. Once Otabek was on, Yuri got on behind him and wrapped his arms around Otabek. His grip was unusually tight, and he bowed his head so that it rested against Otabek’s shoulder.

Otabek didn’t say anything as he drove off. Yuri wasn’t usually this vulnerable with him, even though they had been friends for years now.

**\-------------------------------------**

When they got back to Otabek’s apartment, Yuri had changed out of his musky clothes and into some stuff Otabek let him borrow. None of it fit properly – the joggers stopped halfway down his shins and his shoulders stretched out the snug T-shirt. Now, Yuri was curled up in Otabek’s bed, hogging the bedsheets. Otabek let him. He lay on his side, awkwardly draping an arm over Yuri, grabbing his hand.

“You can sleep in as long as you want. I won’t be busy tomorrow,” Otabek said.

A low grunt of affirmation hummed in Yuri’s chest and Otabek could feel it through his back.

In just a few minutes, Yuri was asleep. His even breathing was the only sound to accompany the hum of the AC in Otabek’s room. Even though he had shut his blinds, Otabek could make out the pale gray dawn coming from behind the slits. He scooted closer, pressing himself into Yuri’s back. Even with the beginning of an immense loss, he didn’t realistically see Yuri dropping out of competitions over it or taking a break. Yuri was stubborn, and he’d push himself through anything, even the painstakingly slow loss of his favorite person.

Otabek planted a kiss to the back of Yuri’s neck, shutting his eyes. He lay there clinging to Yuri, the AC’s white noise dragging him into sleep. The sinking feeling that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about this was the last thing he remembered feeling before dozing off.


End file.
